


Snap, Bubbles, And Pop

by wackyjacqs



Series: Bizarre Holidays [19]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode: s07e13 Grace, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 00:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: She feels a light pressure land on her right wrist and when she turns around and looks down, she sees his hand. She lets her gaze travel from his fingers to his forearm, along his shoulders and up his neck to his face – but she frowns.It doesn’t feel right. It’s Jack, but it also isn’t.





	Snap, Bubbles, And Pop

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this is posted slightly late! Written for ‘National Popcorn Day’ on 19 January. Episode tag for season 7 ‘Grace’.

She really isn’t hungry, but the guys are so enthusiastic about the fact that she’s finally been cleared to leave the infirmary and go home, that she feels bad about refusing the food.

So, she manages just two bites of her cake and then settles for pushing the rest around on her plate.

She appreciates Daniel and Teal’c for staying true to their word and supplying cake – even if it was the colonel’s idea – for their first team night since her little stint on the Prometheus, and she’s thankful that her commanding officer has also offered his home for the get-together. It’s nice because it’s been a while since they’ve had an opportunity like this to relax for an evening, but she’s tired and still recovering from her injuries. As if on cue, her headache starts to return and she rubs a hand over her temple, willing it away. Moments later, the plate she was holding has disappeared and is replaced with a glass of water and two painkillers. She takes them without question, missing the colonel’s concerned expression. It’s only after she’s swallowed the tablets she realizes what she’s done and she glances up at him.

“You were overdue your meds,” he shrugs before he sits down beside her again on the couch.

“Thank you, sir,” she mumbles, setting the glass on the coffee table.

She turns her attention back to the television, but can’t focus on the characters or the plot – she doesn’t even know what the movie is – but if she stares at the screen for long enough, she hopes it means the man sitting to her right will stop watching her out of the corner of his eye.

They’ve all been watching her, but Daniel and Teal’c – who have commandeered an armchair each – now at least seem preoccupied with the movie.

She tells herself that she really does appreciate their concern, but she’s having trouble separating what’s real and what isn’t from her stranding and their concern now feels more suffocating than comforting. But she also isn’t able to tell them to stop because to do so would mean she’d have to admit that she left the whole hallucination situation out of her mission report.

A sigh escapes and she feels the colonel’s attention drift towards her, so she pulls her knees up to her chest and angles them slightly so she can tuck her feet underneath, before she settles against the cushions in an effort to look like she’s relaxed.

She’s anything but relaxed and before she knows it, her thoughts have drifted back to the Prometheus, and the conversations – if she can call it that – that took place. She is struggling to understand what it all means, never mind where the little girl comes into the whole equation.

Suddenly, in Sam’s peripheral vision, a firefight erupts on the screen and the resulting explosions and sparks and flashing lights are too bright and harsh against the darkness of the den and she feels like she’s on board the ship.

She finds it hard to breathe, the oxygen being pulled from her lungs and the air around her, and her head is spinning. But whether it’s the adrenaline, or belief, or just absolute fear, she is overcome with the need to fight. To stay conscious and alive and get back home. The thought snaps the final tendril she’s been clinging onto and it spurs her into action. She jumps off the couch and without warning, the images freeze and a light appears. It makes her wince and then she’s in darkness again. The only sound she can hear is the roaring in her ears, while her heart feels like it is about to burst out of her chest.

“Carter?”

The voice is soft, careful, familiar and it brings her back.

“Jack?”

There’s a heavy pause in the air before she receives a response.

“Yeah.”

She feels a light pressure land on her right wrist and when she turns around and looks down, she sees his hand. She lets her gaze travel from his fingers to his forearm, along his shoulders and up his neck to his face – but she frowns. It doesn’t feel right. It’s Jack, but it also isn’t.

This isn’t the Jack that spoke to her on the Prometheus and when he gives her hand a light squeeze, it shatters the remnants of her trance.

She blinks hard to find her three teammates looking at her with concern. The movie has been paused, forgotten about over her sudden interruption.

Pulling her hand from the colonel, she mumbles an apology and turns on her heel. She doesn’t see the shake of Jack’s head or the way he waves the guys down when they go to follow.

Sam doesn’t bother to turn on the main kitchen light. The few downlights are bright enough to let her see what she’s doing without adding to her ever-worsening headache. She lifts a glass and turns the faucet but when she tries to get a drink, she discovers her hands are shaking. She slams the faucet off and forgets about the water until a large tanned hand appears over her shoulder and silently does the simple task she was unable to.

“Bad experience?” He asks quietly as he hands her the glass.

“Something like that,” she whispers.

She can feel him studying her, but she refuses to meet his gaze.

“You wanna call it a night?”

_“No!”_

This time she does look at him and he seems surprised by her outburst. She tries to shrug it off. Truthfully, a part of her does want to forget the rest of the evening because she wants to be alone. But the other part of her still can’t fathom that she was only missing for four days. It felt like she was on her own for weeks without company.

Finally, she shakes her head. “No, sir. I’ll be fine.”

He purses his lips, clearly not believing her, but wisely decides against saying so.

“What was it?”

“Prometheus.”

She winces. She wasn’t supposed to say that.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She goes to say no, but she’s so beyond tired that she can’t even pretend that she is okay anymore, so when she starts talking, she decides to blame it on the painkillers.

“I had these... visions. Hallucinations, even, when I was stranded.”

She averts her gaze, but knows his eyebrows are raised in surprise. “You were all there. Talking to me, trying to help me find a way back home. Well –” she smirks, but the action is devoid of any humor. “Some of you did anyway.”

She risks a glance and sees his surprise is gone and confusion is in its place.

“With the head injury and trying to figure out what happened in the first place and the damage caused to the ship... I’m just finding it hard to distinguish what really happened during those four days and what didn’t,” she shrugs.

“But it’s the visions that are bothering you?” he asks carefully.

“No. Yes. Maybe.” She sighs and looks at the ground. “I mean – I know the visions aren’t real but –”

“They feel like they could be.”

She chews on her bottom lip and nods. “It’s like you were all there with me at one stage – but you weren’t and I’m trying to push all those memories away, but –”

“But?” He hedges when she says nothing else.

“I just – I feel like – those pieces – pieces of _me_ … they haven’t been put back together properly. And I don’t know how to fix it,” she barely whispers.

Jack cants his head, his expression unreadable, and it’s only after what feels like an eternity, lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do you need to talk to someone about this?”

“Do you think I need to?”

“I’d rather not make that call,” he admits. “But from what you’ve just told me –” He lets the rest of his sentence hang in the air.

“I’m not talking to Mackenzie.”

“And I’m not suggesting you should, Carter, but –”

“But?”

“You don’t seem like yourself.”

For some reason she can’t explain, his words irk her and the irritation must show on her face because he lifts a hand in the air and quickly adds, “It just seems to be taking you longer to recover this time, that’s all.”

She deflates slightly then and she hears him sigh.

“Look, Hammond’s given you a week to recuperate. Take it, Sam. Go visit your brother. Just – just go and clear that head of yours.”

She meets his gaze and feels the tears threatening to fall. She doesn’t want to take the time off, even though she desperately needs it, but she knows this is his way of buying her some time. Of giving her that week to try and sort out whatever it is going on inside her head before he’s forced to intervene. She knows that he would never make her to talk to Mackenzie, but she also knows that if she’s off her game in the slightest, he’ll pull her from the mission rota without a second thought.

“As your commanding officer, Sam. Your welfare is my priority,” he says, as if reading her mind.

“And not as my commanding officer?”

The words leave her lips before she can stop them, but she finds herself unable to look away. She sees the battle play out across his face. His words are low, controlled, when he speaks.

“You’re still my priority.”

She huffs out a laugh, and watches as he steps closer. He’s looking at her with concern and guilt and understanding and it’s all too much and she feels her lip start to quiver.

“C’mere,” he whispers as he pulls her into his embrace. “It’s OK to fall apart, you know,” he mutters quietly after a while. “Sometimes that’s the only way we can fix the pieces that are broken.”

His words, strangely, bring comfort. They are the first thing that has ever since her return, because she believes him and _in him_ and she knows that if anyone understands and can help to put her back together, it’s the man holding her in his arms.

“The guys will be getting worried,” he adds after a beat and she nods.

She can hear the faint murmur of the television but she knows they haven’t been watching it. Just as she goes to pull away, she feels the colonel drop a kiss to the top of her head.

“Go back to the movie, Sam. I’ll get the popcorn.”

She smiles, thankful that he’s not going to drag out their conversation, instead choosing to pull them back into some kind of normality.

When she enters the den, she gives Daniel and Teal’c a small smile before she resumes her position on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

She’s nothing to be sorry for, and they all know that, but somehow it makes her feel better.

Jack appears before she can say anything else – or before Daniel can ask her any questions.

“Eyes on the movie, Danny,” he quips softly as he hands the archaeologist a fresh bowl of popcorn.

He then moves to sit beside Sam and hands her, her own bowl of popcorn. It’s warm and the sweet smell of caramel hits her nose but when she glances down, she freezes. There’s Whoppers mixed throughout and the heat of the popcorn has made the coverings melt, coating a number of pieces lightly in chocolate. It’s her favorite way to eat both of the treats and for some reason, it brings her another wave of comfort.

She’s touched that he remembers her little quirk and a choked sob tries to escape at the intimacy of the action.

It’s a reminder that this is real. That _she_ is real. That she is really home, safe and sound, and with her team. _With him._

She feels his hand rest on her shoulder as he gently pulls her against his side, and she glances up at him, but his eyes are focused on the TV. She wants to thank him, but then he gives her a light squeeze.

“Get some rest,” he whispers into her hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Really?” she mumbles sleepily.

“Really,” he promises.


End file.
